Baggage and Bones
by Ninnik Nishukan
Summary: Coraline's friends from Michigan come to visit much earlier than expected. And then there's Wybie, who's sweet, but a little off. Takes place a few months after the movie. Prequel to both "Kappa!" and "Going to a Desert Unknown".
1. Bent

**Baggage and Bones**

Ninnik Nishukan

* * *

**Summary:** Coraline's friends from Michigan come to visit much earlier than expected. And then there's Wybie, who's sweet, but a little off. Takes place a few months after the movie.

**Prequel to both _Kappa! _and _Going to a Desert Unknown_ (all my _Coraline_ stories are related).**

* * *

She's turning twelve this weekend. Her parents have measured her, and she's grown half an inch since they first met. She's also grown slightly in the…chest area. She's got what some of the older kids at school call 'mosquito bites', which Wybie thinks is stupid, because he spends most of his time outside and has been bitten enough times to know it'd have to be a mutant mosquito or something to leave marks that big.

Her mom gets her a training bra a couple of weeks before her birthday, and she refuses to wear it, ranting to Wybie about it, although he has no idea where she got the crazy notion that _he_ wants to hear about that kinda stuff. Before now, he hasn't imagined she'd _ever_ wear a bra. Ugh. Not to mention the phrase 'training bra' makes him think of 'training wheels', and then he's irresistibly imagining her rolling helplessly down a hill with wheels strapped to her chest. Inevitably, she thinks he's making fun of her and her body as he falls about laughing— and oh boy, that girl can kick.

So he changes the subject, trying to coax out of her what she wants for her birthday. He has no idea what to get her. Except for his Cousin, he's never bought a birthday present for a girl. Grandma usually handles that sort of thing, anyway, but this is Jonesy, so he's gotta man up and get something decent. Can't have Gramma buying her a _Bratz_ trapper keeper or something humiliating like that.

When taking his motorized bike and his weekly allowance downtown to the tiny comic book store for one of his regular visits, he spots a display case full of rubber shrunken heads, all ghastly and ghoulish with their sewn-shut eyes and mouths. Ignoring her pre-stated birthday gift wishes (she'll probably get those things from her parents, anyway), he doesn't hesitate a second.

"Wyborne Lovat! Now that's _hardly_ an appropriate gift for a young woman!" When he returns home, Gramma looks on in horror as he triumphantly pulls a bag of three heads out of his backpack to show her.

She nevertheless starts helping him wrap the present up properly, so he returns the favor by not objecting to her calling Jonesy a "young woman", of all things. As if. He wonders if Jonesy would find it equally preposterous, or if she'd be flattered. You can never quite tell with her.

* * *

When she tells him her friends from Michigan are coming to visit her in a couple of days, he gets the feeling she's waited this long to tell him because she's not quite sure she actually wants to introduce them.

From time to time, and with great enthusiasm, she's mentioned that they were coming to visit in the summer, but now, out of the blue, they're already coming on a short visit for her birthday in January, before the end of winter break. Something about one of them also having relatives over in Medford. Coraline must've known about it for a few weeks at least, though. Mrs. and Mr. Jones don't seem the types to enjoy surprise visits.

Brown roots began to show in Coraline's hair for the past few weeks, and she hasn't seemed too bothered about them, even for Christmas, but now they're gone. She must've touched them up for the arrival of her special guests. He comments on it, not for the first time; "Seriously, you do buy your hair dye from the same store as Marge Simpson, right?"

He had a plan (still has a plan) that he wanted to tell her about, but now it somehow doesn't feel like the right time. It involves Salem and ghosts and had sounded exciting and cool and important…up until she told him the unexpected news.

She gives him an odd, uncertain look as he leaves earlier than he usually does (he likes to hang around for as long as Gramma will let him), promising to be back the next afternoon.

It's okay, he's been that sort of friend before, the sort it's fun to spend time with alone, but whom you don't want to embarrass yourself with by trotting out for special occasions, such as actually meeting other human beings.

Once, before Coraline moved here, he confessed to Gramma (in a moment of weakness) that it seemed like the other kids at school thought he was kinda weird. She told him that if he _was_, then it was the kind of weirdness people would come to appreciate once they were a bit older and could see a bit further than the ends of their own noses.

Now, Wybie wonders how much older 'a bit' was supposed to be.

* * *

Coraline's parents are supposed to take all the kids out to dinner tomorrow, when her friends arrive. Today is just for the inhabitants of the Pink Palace and the Lovats, who are all gathered in the living room of the Joneses.

Gramma and Mr. Bobinsky are talking animatedly and sharing a small bottle of something that smells like it belongs in a garage. Both their faces are red, and their frequent laughter fills the air. It's good to see Gramma's enjoying herself; heck, it's amazing that she's even inside the Pink Palace to begin with.

The large coconut-chocolate cake rests on the coffee table after the mass assault it's been subjected to; only a couple of small pieces remain. The bucket of vanilla ice cream is almost completely empty, a small blob of creamy goo melting away at the bottom.

Miss Spink and Forcible are reclining in a couple of armchairs by the fire, sipping tea with rum and chatting with Coraline's parents about local shows they simply _must_ go and see when they have the chance.

Wybie and Coraline are slumped on the sofa, happily bursting at the seams with cake, ice cream, chips and soda. Soon enough, however, Coraline, dressed in the new outfit her parents bought for her birthday (a neon green knitted sweater and a puffy, white skirt with a black pattern of tiny frogs), sits back up and purses her lips with curiosity, her gaze scanning the room. It's obvious that her feeding frenzy lethargy hasn't dampened her yearning for more birthday presents.

Catching her anticipating eye, Mr. Bobinsky leaps up from his chair. "Ah, I see is time for Coraline to have present, yes? Can't keep leetle girl waiting on birthday, is cruel!"

As Coraline eagerly starts unwrapping her gift, which is unfittingly wrapped in Christmas paper, but nevertheless neatly so, Mr. B goes out into the hallway and comes back with a bulky instrument case.

When Coraline's done unwrapping and looks up in puzzlement, Mr. B is brandishing a trombone. "I wanted to give you real mushka, but mama, she say papa's allergic," he explains apologetically, but then goes on in a more optimistic tone: "Unfortunate, yes, but instead, for you I have procured these mechanical mushkas, very spectacular!"

Chuckling, Coraline holds up three tiny, white and caramel-colored wind-up mice. "You wind, I play, we put on birthday show— go, go, go!" Mr. B orders, waving the trombone like a conductor's staff, and so Coraline obeys.

When the mechanical mice start zigzagging, spinning and whirring around, Mr. B strikes up a bracing, quirky, chipper melody, and indeed, under the sudden spell of his music, the robotic rodents do almost appear to be dancing.

Coraline cheers, her exhilaration lighting up her face like fireworks in the sky, and Gramma laughs out loud, clapping her hands.

Mr. B takes a low bow when it's over, even earning the pleased chuckles of Mr. and Mrs. Jones and much applause and handkerchief waving from Spink and Forcible.

Next, the two old theater stars struggle up from their seats and make their way towards Coraline; Miss Forcible is clutching a silver and turquoise, star-patterned gift box in her hands, and both ladies are smiling hopefully.

Coraline's a bit more careful in opening this present, either because of the delicate gauze ribbon hugging the box and lid together, or perhaps because she's (like Wybie) wondering what in the world these two could have possibly gotten her. Hundred year old candy? A do-it-yourself taxidermy manual?

When she sees what's inside, there seems to fall a sort of hush, but only around her and the two ladies, as if they're in a sound proof bubble.

"Well, you said you'd lost the adder stone we gave you, dearie," begins Miss Spink, but is cut off by Miss Forcible, who continues: "But you said it'd helped you, so we thought we'd get you another one! Finally found one lying around, knew we had one more—"

"See the silver chain, sweetie?" Miss Spink interjects with a kindly smile. "We bought it new in town. This way you won't lose this one."

"Quite right, April," Miss Forcible pipes up, "I'm glad I thought of it."

Spink shoots Forcible a brief scowl. "Oh, _no_, Miriam, I think you'll find _I_ was the one who came up with the idea— remember, on Wednesday when we were having Oolong tea and those teensy, delectable vanilla biscuits?"

Forcible's lips curl for a second. "No, I'm fairly sure it was _I _who— don't you recall, we were talking about going to the library to borrow some new volumes on drama to keep up with the times, and I said, oh, speaking of drama, didn't our little friend Caroline have some trouble, and then— and besides, we were drinking _Jasmine_ tea—"

Spink clucks her tongue. "Well, perhaps _you_ were, dear, you know I cannot _abide_ Jasmine—"

"Thank you," says Coraline, and there's a certain brittle quality to her voice that causes even the two forceful, elderly ladies to stop bickering.

Wybie watches the frightening memories kaleidoscope across her face and wishes he had something helpful to say. He notices her glancing quickly over to the far side of the room, at the little door. Her hands tremble almost imperceptibly as she reaches out to pick up the old orange stone by the chain looped through the hole in its middle.

"You're quite welcome, darling," says Miss Forcible, smiling gently. "Many happy returns of the day!"

Miss Spink beams. "Oh, yes, happy birthday— and we're glad you like it, Caroline!" On this, apparently, these two can finally agree for once. Well, on this, and on getting her name wrong.

Wybie excuses himself to go to the bathroom. He still has no idea what to say. He only had a little taste of that other world, and for all the stories she's told him, he probably isn't even close to imagining what it was actually like there. If he was older, maybe he'd go over to her and comfort her, stroke her back, whatever, but he doesn't have the nerve, and he believes she'd only shrug him off. It's too bad, because her parents, simply thanking the two pensioners for the lovely gift, aren't picking up on their daughter's muted distress; how could they? To them, it must hold no other significance than a pretty bauble on a string. Will she ever tell them? Would they listen?

He returns to the living room to discover that Gramma's just given Coraline her sister's old silver-backed mirror. Again, Coraline is wearing that unfamiliar, crumbling, moist-eyed look of stunned gratitude. Wybie's not sure if he's surprised about Gramma's choice of gift or not, but lets them talk quietly in the corner while he sits down and skims through the small pile of books and illustrated novels Coraline's relatives have sent her for the occasion. The hushed conversation goes on at length. Coraline eventually gets up to unwrap the last few presents from her parents (some audio books, light blue roller skates and a stripy, yellow scarf), but after she's thanked them, she returns to the corner to sit with Gramma again.

In the kitchen, Wybie can hear Mr. and Mrs. Jones starting to do the dishes now. Mr. B is gathering up all the crumpled gift paper in a plastic bag to take it out to the recycling point; by the time he shuts the door behind him, Spink and Forcible have dozed off in their armchairs.

Coraline has said that Wybie could give her his present tomorrow, when they meet Lauren and Josh. He's secretly pleased; it implies that while he's part of this, here, today, he's also grouped with her "cool" friends rather than just with her family and neighbors. It puts him apart somehow. He wonders if it's just a coincidence, if she merely wants to show her old friends that she's got new ones that even brings her gifts, or if it really does say something about how she views him.

And will it change her view of him if her friends don't accept him?

As he lies in bed that night, trying to fall asleep, his stomach flutters and pinches with apprehension for the coming day.

* * *

Wybie twiddles his thumbs, letting Coraline's ceaseless, animated chatter wash over him. She's so impatient for her friends to arrive that they're sitting outside on the front porch (well, he's sitting, she's pacing), and she scouts expectantly for her guests while entertaining herself and him with tales from "back home". He wonders if this means she doesn't yet think of Ashland as home, and whether her friends are really as awesome as she says or if it's mostly nostalgia.

When a dark blue car finally pulls into the driveway, Coraline makes a rather un-Coraline-like squeal of delight and leaps down the porch steps.

Josh and Lauren turn out to be a tall, gangly, dark blonde boy with braces and a short, brunette girl with glasses and a high forehead. So…okay, probably not exactly the coolest kids in school back home, but still confident, still radiating some sort of sense of ease that he's always appeared to lack— and it's clear to him from the very first moment they arrive that these two and Coraline are close.

"Hey, eloper!" greets Josh loudly as soon as he opens the car door, while Lauren is already outside and rushes over to hug Coraline, making one of those odd high-pitched noises girls sometimes make, where you don't know if they're happy or if they've just seen a giant spider or something. Coraline reciprocates, bouncing on her toes.

"Oh, no way, they really _did_ let you go blue, I figured it was just some sorta temporary dye," Lauren comments in awe, tousling Coraline's hair before chuckling a bit: "Hah, you really put that parental guilt over movin' ya here to good use, huh?" Lauren flips her hair, then, cupping one hand behind her own ear. "Check it out, my parents wouldn't let me have a dog, so they finally caved in about letting me get my ears pierced!"

Coraline laughs appreciatively at this and makes all the obligatory best friend comments of approval that Wybie hears all the time at school whenever somebody's got a new video game or something.

Josh is more laidback, striding across the drive and patting Coraline soundly on the back with a grin when he reaches her, wisely having given the girls some time before interrupting. Behind him, Wybie can see his parents struggling with the luggage. "Good to see ya, Jonesy!" He grins. "How ya been?"

There's a sharp little sensation somewhere between his stomach and lungs when Wybie hears that; even though it's not an unusual nickname, he somehow still thought he was the only one who called her that. Looks like he was just the only one around _here_…

"So, is this who's been keeping ya company after you decided to _abandon_ us?" Lauren teases, and all of a sudden, all eyes are on Wybie, jerking him out of his thoughts. He gets up quickly, trying his best to look alert and friendly. "Hi," he says, before pausing and hoping somebody else is going to speak next.

Coraline grins at Josh and Lauren; Wybie wonders if he's just imagining how nervous she looks. "Yep!" she says, announcing cheerfully: "This is Wybie, he lives next door and we go to school together and stuff!" She glances at Lauren. "By the way, remind me to show you the school uniforms later, I swear they're totally depressing!"

"_Wybie_?" Josh demands, eyebrows shooting up with perplexity.

Automatically, Wybie's shoulders rise in defense, his head lowering. "Uh, yeah…it's short for Wyborne," he explains on autopilot, experiencing an irrational but acute burst of betrayal; he feels that somehow, Coraline should've just instinctively _known_ to prepare her friends about his name. After all, she's got issues about her name, too, and should've thought ahead, been sympathetic to the fact that this would happen, right? But while people merely get her name wrong, a misunderstanding that's usually cleared up in the end, with _him_ the trouble is that they basically just think it's really—

"_Weird_," Lauren concludes, to nods from Josh. It doesn't sound malicious; it's probably just a kneejerk reaction, and he can't blame her. She's not the first. That doesn't necessarily make it any less awkward, though. A quick look at Coraline's face tells him she agrees.

"Hey, not like it was my idea," he says, attempting his standard joke and even a chuckle.

"Good point." Lauren laughs, and Coraline relaxes.

By playing the universal "parents are nuts" card, he seems to have passed for now.

* * *

Dinner downtown is fine. Wybie tries to say as little as possible, which Jonesy would probably find hilarious if she knew (or maybe not, considering Other Wybie). It's easy, though; the three reunited friends have so much to catch up on that nobody expects him to contribute much to the conversation after the initial, mandatory self-presentation.

Apparently, they used to play field hockey together, and love to reminisce over the many times they've bruised each others' shins. He tries to concentrate on his food, but keeps one ear in the conversation, just in case there'll be some sort of test later (it's a feeling he often gets around crowds).

Her parents chat happily with Josh's parents, probably glad to get out of the house, and don't notice his discomfort.

Then it's home again for birthday cake and presents. On their way to the kitchen, Wybie notices Coraline glancing apprehensively at the room with the little door as they pass by, and that perhaps she's a little too eager to get to the kitchen, jokingly pushing her friends along.

When they've been eating for a while, Mrs. Jones puts a stop to Mr. Jones' surreptitious attempt to grab a second helping of cake and ice cream by sending him a frosty look that clearly reminds him that they're having cake for the second day in a row and pigging out isn't going to help his developing writer's gut.

Mrs. Jones drags a pouty Mr. Jones outside to go for a walk with Josh's parents, leaving the kids alone to talk and feast.

When the trio laughs uproariously for the fifth time at something Wybie doesn't get, and Coraline shrugs and says (again) 'You kinda had to be there', he wants to get up and run out the door to get away from all these inside jokes. However, it's not only Jonesy's birthday, but also the first time they've ever celebrated it together.

It's kind of like seeing the fairy circle of mushrooms for the first time at eight, and being terrified to step into it, his head full of fairy tale warnings. Except now there's no real danger, and it's more that something's stopping him than it's him stopping himself. He just can't step closer, can't get inside. There's no decoder ring for this. He doesn't speak their language of shared memories.

He wants to tell her his Salem idea so badly, but the presence of her friends looms large, and it feels as if his mouth has been sewn shut whenever he contemplates voicing the concept aloud. Ixnay on the Alem-say.

When it's time for presents, the urge to escape intensifies, his palms starting to sweat. He's last, of course. Her friends have given her gifts that have made her practically dance with nostalgia, she's so impressed. To him, they look like ordinary things, a detective novel and a big box full of colorful, new barrettes, so they must be connected to that untouchable past back there. In Pontiac. Where they probably solved the Michigan Mystery of the Missing Molasses Pie together or did each others' hair or something. They probably all went water witching together, too. Who knows. The important part is that it didn't involve _him_.

Suddenly he realizes that Jonesy is looking at him with anticipation, and to his horror, he finds himself lying. "Uh…oh no, I think I f-forgot your present at home," he stutters; the present is right here, in his backpack out in the hall, where he left it earlier, before they went to dinner. It had seemed so awesome and perfect to him. Now it somehow feels corny and inadequate. And compared to all these other gifts (not just from her friends, but from her family and even her neighbors), which are heavy with meaning and sentiment, his feels thoughtless and flimsy. What had he been thinking?

"Oh." Her tone is flat with surprise, and vaguely annoyed. "Well, can you go get it?"

"No! I mean, um, Gramma…she's taking her nap right now and I don't wanna wake her up." Something in his chest is tying itself in knots as he adds more lies, making the first one grow like a snowball rolling down a hill. He's never been good at lying, but nevertheless manages to add: "She just took her pills."

She tilts her head at him, puzzled, but relents, and he feels rotten for using Gramma against her like that when he's come to realize she's got a soft spot for the old lady. "Ehm…okay," she agrees, but can't keep the disappointment out of her voice. He catches her exchanging an uncomfortable glance with her friends; first one, then the other, then a shrug.

The look on her face when she turns back to him makes his stomach churn. Unable to stop himself, he makes a risky promise: "I can get it for you later, okay, Jonesy? I know you're gonna love it."

"Okay," she repeats, sounding a little brighter now, yet her smile is still not quite genuine.

There's a moment of awkward silence. He had a long way to fall, bringing her this bad news after her earlier enthusiasm.

Josh volunteers to break the tension, then, talking so briskly and loudly he almost makes everyone jump. "So, I never asked you— what's your game?"

Wybie blinks at him. "Game?" he echoes reluctantly. He gets a crazy thought: Do they think he's pretending to be somebody else or something? Is he?

Josh nods, prompting him eagerly: "Football? Baseball? Basketball? Hockey?"

Wybie senses himself freezing up, just for a second. When they found out he didn't care much about rooting for the home football team, some of the jock kids in class gave him a wedgie and dropped his math textbook in a puddle, back in fourth grade. He highly doubts Josh would do anything like that, especially in front of Coraline, but he's still petrified as he desperately tries to think of something to say that'll be approved of. "Oh. Uh, I don't really— sports aren't really my, uhm—"

Coraline clears her throat, coming to the rescue. "I think Wybie's more into bikes."

"What, like Tour de France or something?" Josh asks with a rather skeptical grimace. "Dude, that's as boring as tennis."

"No, like motorbikes," Coraline clarifies, slugging Josh on the arm with an unexpectedly smug look that Wybie finds he's absurdly grateful for. "Like he _builds his own_."

Josh and Lauren's faces seem to light up in unison. "What, like for real?" Lauren clasps her hands together, grinning widely at him. "You've got a motorbike you built yourself?"

Wybie gives a self-conscious chuckle. "Yeah, but it's not a big deal, I mean, it's just a converted bicycle, I'm obviously not old enough to own a _real_ motorcycle yet—"

Lauren shakes her head in enchanted disbelief. "Yeah, but still— that sounds awesome!"

"Hey, can I try it?" Josh asks, looking eager again now.

This startles Wybie, but he sees no way out. "Okay," he mumbles grudgingly, "but, um…tomorrow, okay? Like I said, I don't…wanna wake up Gramma."

"No problem," Josh agrees, all devil-may-care, "we'll be here all weekend, after all."

Wybie's not sure how much of a non-problem this really is.

_**To be continued.**_

* * *

**Author's notes: **I did this story from Wybie's viewpoint, since I did _Going to a Desert Unknown_ from Coraline's viewpoint. _Kappa!_, on the other hand, varies between both their viewpoints.

**Sweet, but a little off:** Quoted from Henry Selick's feature commentary on the Coraline special edition DVD. This was how he said he wanted Wybie to be.

**A neon green knitted sweater and a puffy, white skirt with a black pattern of tiny frogs:** Inspired by some of the concept art for Coraline's character design in _Coraline: A Visual Companion_ (Stephen Jones, 2009).

**Coraline/Caroline:** I have Mr. B getting her name right because in the book, he did so in the end. With Spink and Forcible, I'll let them take a bit longer to stop getting it wrong. They're old and a bit absentminded, and this story is only set a few months after the movie, after all. :P

**Josh and Lauren:** Coraline's friends from Michigan weren't given names, as far as I understand, so I just gave them some. Their physical appearance is based on the picture of them that we see in Coraline's bedroom.


	2. Unbent

**Baggage and Bones**

Ninnik Nishukan

* * *

**Summary:** Coraline's friends from Michigan come to visit much earlier than expected. And then there's Wybie, who's sweet, but a little off. Takes place a few months after the movie.

**Prequel both to **_**Kappa! **_**and **_**Going to a Desert Unknown**_** (all my **_**Coraline**_** stories are related)**

* * *

It feels wrong and awkward— he barely even lets _Coraline_ borrow his bike— but she's given him a not-so-discrete look like 'don't be a spaz, Lovat' and he has no magic words with which to get himself off the hook. Explaining why he hadn't brought a gift was bad enough— doing this on top of _that_ would definitely be what Gramma would call "just plum bad manners". Besides, both he and Coraline are aware that there are limited things for kids to do around here, and they've already been another trip downtown today. Wybie doesn't want to add to her embarrassment by boring her guests.

He hears Josh whooping in the distance. While the two girls jump up and down, cheering him on, Wybie simply winces.

"Be careful!" he calls before he can stop himself, immediately realizing how lame he sounds. He might as well be Gramma. "The…engine can be a little tricky sometimes," he elaborates feebly, when Lauren gives him a sideways look, "so just don't…push it too hard."

"Okay!" Josh laughs, but then almost instantly bumps into (or rather half-crashes against) a telephone pole, scraping the side of the bike along it. Josh curses loudly, but is drowned out when, again, Wybie can't resist being completely uncool: "Don't chip the paint job!"

"Alright, already!" Josh is clearly irritated; it dawns on Wybie that he should've probably asked if Josh was all right instead of the bike. Crap. He's already embarrassed himself enough by attempting to get the other boy to wear a helmet, even if he himself never does. When Coraline pointed this out, he retorted that Josh wasn't used to the bike like he was, which Josh somehow took as an insult and promptly drove off without the helmet.

"You okay?" Lauren shouts, getting a grouchy affirmative answer from Josh. "Great, then maybe you can give me a turn, if you don't know how to handle it!" Lauren's good-natured mocking doesn't miss a beat.

Grumbling, Josh heads back and hands the bike over to Lauren, glaring at it as if it's offended him personally.

Wybie holds out a warning hand, as if to physically stop Lauren, but lets his arm drop to his side, realizing just in time that this would be crossing the line of the inexcusable social faux pas. He's already been traumatized by Josh's reckless treatment of his most prized possession, though, and isn't sure he can handle a replay, so he attempts to stop her verbally instead: "Uh, Lauren, are you sure you wanna—?"

Coraline's scowl silences him, however, and other than a faintly exasperated glance, Lauren doesn't respond as she climbs onto the bike.

She's off, experimentally circling the yard a few times before confidently taking off up the hill, whooping every bit as loudly as Josh now. "YEAH! WOOO!"

When she finally decides she's had enough and is speeding down towards them again, Wybie's heart is pounding and he's shuffling his feet and biting his lip, trying to figure out how to politely ask her to get the hell off his bike so he can check for damages. Lauren's treating his bike a bit more carefully, probably because of Josh's little accident, but she's still going too fast and too wobbly, and she's not exactly avoiding the half-frozen puddles of mud along the way.

"Awesome bike, Wybie!" she calls, which might've pleased him if he didn't feel like such a wreck.

Just as Lauren comes to a halt in front of them, a bombastic greeting echoes all around. "Good morning, Coraline!"

"Morning, Mr. B!" Wybie replies, glad of the interruption.

"Good morning, Wyborne! Good morning, strange children I have spoken with never before!"

"Hey," Lauren and Josh chorus uncertainly.

Mr. B pauses for a moment, studying Lauren, who's still straddling Wybie's eccentric bike. Then he grins with realization. "Ah, children training for circus also, am I right? But you should put bear on motorcycle instead— bring in much bigger crowd, yes?"

Without waiting for an answer, he's on his way.

Josh gapes at him as he jogs by. "Uh, yeah, we'll…do that."

Wybie barks out a goofy laugh at Josh's flabbergasted expression, but his mouth snaps instantly shut as Josh frowns at him.

Coraline waves at Mr. B. "Don't ask," she mumbles when she notices Lauren and Josh staring quizzically at her.

Josh chuckles, shrugging, but Lauren seems to have already redirected her attention from Bobinsky. "So, anyway, Wybie…how about that crazy hair, huh?" she teases, patting his head briefly. "Think we could cram some _more_ of the forest in there?"

Wybie feels his face flush; he'd been so sure he'd combed everything out this morning.

Coraline gives Lauren a playful shove. "Jeez, Lauren, flirt much?"

"As if!" Her cheeks pink, Lauren snorts with indignation, elbowing Coraline's side.

"That's probably why he doesn't wear a helmet, he can't fit his hair into it," Josh mutters to Lauren. He's nursing a bruised arm and obviously still ticked off, as if it had been Wybie's fault that he hadn't looked where he was going. Or maybe he's pissed off because Wybie laughed at him.

Trying not to let this whole exchange bother him too much, Wybie focuses instead on his bike, which he discovers now has a broken light. He can't quite bring himself to complain about it.

The only upside to all this is that (miraculously) nobody remembers to mention the missing present.

On the way home, Wybie takes a detour to the old well. He would never dare to remove the wooden lid anymore, and certainly wouldn't drop any stones down there, like he used to before the Joneses arrived.

Staring at the frost-covered ground, longing for the mushroom markers to grow back (not that he'd ever wander across the well by mistake, but anyway), he wonders if Coraline ever comes up here by herself just to watch and think and feel a thrill of fear go through her. Or if she's ever afraid the _hand_ is still alive down there.

He wonders if she's told _them_ anything about what happened to her yet.

* * *

It's a rare snow day in Ashland. They've left footprints in the thin layer on the ground, trailing from the front porch of The Pink Palace, crossing the garden and venturing into the woods on the little path. Wybie leaves his bike and follows after them on foot, walking quietly.

The cat meets him on the way.

There were footprints going up to his house, too, which means they must've come to fetch him while he was out picking up some groceries for Gramma this morning.

When he's walked through the first large patch of trees, Wybie finds them on the bottom of the little hill down to the partly frozen river, where Gramma doesn't like him playing even in summer (that doesn't necessarily mean he never does, though). They're basically just hanging around, testing the ice on the river with sticks, chucking a few rocks in, scuffing the snowy ground with their shoes, laughing, talking.

He's curious (nervous) as to whether they're talking about him. He can already imagine their conversation.

_Josh: "So, what's that Lovat kid's damage?"_

_Lauren: "Yeah, either he spazzes out or he clams up. Can't get two decent words outta him."_

_Coraline: "Funny, 'cause I usually can't shut him up. Never mind him; he must be off his meds again or something."_

And endless variations on that theme, unraveling in his head. Wybie wishes (and doesn't wish) he could actually hear any of what they're saying.

"What should I do, Cat?" he whispers, crouching down. "Should I let 'em know I'm here?"

As always, the cat has no answer other than that blue, unblinking stare.

For a minute, Wybie muses on what it would say in that Other world, where Coraline says it could talk, or how these new kids (button-eyed or not) would've responded to him there.

Down the hill, a snowball fights suddenly erupts as Lauren throws a direct hit to the side of Josh's face, knocking his hat off his head. Coraline's laugh of wicked, happy delight echoes in the forest, but as Josh starts scooping up a handful of snow, soon both girls are scrambling to make some ammunition.

Wybie realizes he's not sure when he last had an actual snowball fight. He's usually more of a target than a participant.

He sneaks back before any of them can notice him. He's been caught stalking Coraline a million times, but it's different if she's not alone.

It's not until he's returned home that he remembers the fact that he actually had a pretense to talk to them, considering they went to his house today. It probably shouldn't have felt so much like trespassing. As he eats the baloney sandwich Gramma's made him for lunch, it begins to sink in that he might've been wondering whether Coraline had to _convince_ the others to ask if he wanted to tag along, or if they were cool with it.

Besides, he still hasn't given Jonesy her present, and knowing her, it'd probably be the first topic on her mind if he showed up. Again, he thinks it's a wonder she didn't mention in yesterday; must've been distracted by that whole bike ordeal. He can't hand over those shrunken heads in front of them now, he just can't. Another thought strikes him, another one that was hissing, ignored, at the back of his mind since he'd left the house: What if they only came around to finally see what his mysteriously absent gift was? What if they hadn't been intending to take him with them at all?

The sandwich becomes a heavy, dry lump in his mouth all of a sudden; he's forced to finish his entire glass of milk in order to swallow.

He spends the rest of the day inside, doing the homework they were assigned for the holidays, and waving away Gramma's questions about why he's not outside playing with his little friends.

* * *

When Jonesy's front door swings open the next afternoon, he braces himself for the stare he knows he's about to receive. That really won't be a surprise, considering the state of his hair; he can even imagine the comments, word for word. The only variable left is who will be doing the staring, and possibly the laughing: It could be Mrs. Jones, Mr. Jones, Jonesy herself or, goodness forbid, any of her Michigan guests.

Gramma said he looked handsome, the sort of praise that immediately translated even in his mind to "completely dorky". Relatives didn't count. Mr. Bobinsky praised it as "very military, very admirable" as he bounded past Wybie on his morning jog. This wasn't necessarily a good thing, either.

As Coraline appears in the doorway and doesn't defy his theories by not staring at him, he's acutely aware of how the new hair, or lack thereof, makes his already large ears appear even larger. Once again, he wonders what possessed him to do this last night. He suspects it had to do with some vague and not so vague notions about her friends, and their comments, and possibly her, and possibly the kids at school, and how they all see him.

"Wybie!"

He shoots her a sheepish sort of half-grin. "Uh, yeah…s'just me."

"You cut your hair!" she exclaims redundantly; it couldn't have been more obvious even if he was wearing a neon sign. He feels like a turnip.

"Shaved, actually," he mutters, his face growing hot; he fishes a navy blue woolen hat out of his coat pocket and pulls it down over his protruding ears. Hats didn't use to fit him. He debated on whether he should've just worn the hat in the first place, to cover up his rash fashion decision. In the end he supposed people were going to see it sooner or later, anyway (and a tiny, raw part of him hoped for approval, impossible though it was).

"No kidding," she says, her expression and voice strained with baffled hilarity, "Wow, guess your Gramma got tired of raking entire pine trees and stuff out of your hair every day, huh?"

His blush abates somewhat, what with her assuming it was Gramma who made him go through with this. This new concept definitely makes him seem less idiotic. Why hadn't he thought of it himself? "Go ahead, laugh," he says flatly.

"It'll grow back," she says with exaggerated solemnity, patting his shoulder.

"But not in the next five minutes," he deadpans.

She shakes her head, grins; expectant. "So, anyway…do you have my present, _finally_?"

He was right; she didn't forget. "Ah…yeah, it's…yeah. Here," he mumbles, reluctantly handing her the wrapped box.

As she starts unwrapping the present, he finds he's actually holding his breath.

"Oh, whoa," she whistles, gawking, "cool…!"

He exhales. "You like it?"

"Uh huh." She nods, still slightly awestruck. "Too bad you didn't bring this to the party, woulda been really awesome."

"Oh?" He blinks. "I kinda just didn't…think it was real appropriate to show this to your friends. They don't seem the types to, uh…"

A sort of puzzled suspicion covers her face. "Whaddaya mean? You mean you left it at home on _purpose_?"

He shrugs, examining his scuffed boots. "Well…to be honest, I figured they probably thought I was weird enough already, so…"

"You kiddin'?" She tilts her head at him skeptically, favors his arm with a friendly punch. "With Mr. B and the two dingbats around, who's even gonna notice you, right? I mean, I love 'em, they're great, but yeah…they're kind of a little…hard to explain to people who're meeting them for the first time. We ran into Spink and Forcible in the garden yesterday, and it was so obvious Josh and Lauren just had _noooo_ idea what their deal was!"

Wybie gives an uncomfortable laugh in return, not quite sure if he believes her casual joking. He wonders if she'd gotten so used to them all, including him, that it was a bit of a shock to her to suddenly see them through outsider eyes again. "Where are they, anyway? Your friends, I mean. They're not leaving for Medford until tomorrow, right?"

Coraline throws her arms up, having apparently been reminded of something that bothers her. "Well, they weren't _going_ to, but Josh's Aunt called and said there'd been a change of plans. Which really sucks, of course, but Mom only said it gave me the perfect opportunity to finish that essay I haven't done yet— hah! And can you believe they gave us actual homework over the holidays? Who _does_ that?"

He shrugs. "Sadistic teachers? Anyway, it's just a page-long essay. They'll probably let you get away with half a page, even, since it's the holidays."

She flaps a dismissive hand. "Whatever, I'm so not taking any chances— and why do you always tell _me_ not to sweat it, when _you_ totally do all the assignments down to the very last detail— plus extra credit if you have the time?" She peers intensely at him for a moment. "Are you trying to eliminate the competition or something?"

Wybie laughs incredulously. "Aww, c'mon, what do you think this is, Wall Street or something? We're still in grade school!"

"Well, not for much longer, and I hear high school's hell— so spill!" Coraline wags her finger at him; the shrunken heads flop around in her other hand, by her hip, and she makes for a strangely intimidating picture. "Why that attitude?"

"I dunno, you always make such a thing out of school work, so I'm just trying to tell you it's not a big deal—" He holds up his gloved hands in supplication, then. "Look, just because I spend some time on my school work doesn't mean I completely stress out about it, I just do it."

She scoffs. "Not everyone's a big nerd like you."

His hands drop to his side. He knows she doesn't really mean it, that she's mostly just annoyed at herself over procrastinating with her homework, but it still hits too close to the mark. Even normally, before her friends visited, her comment would've upset him a little, but now it's worse.

"Gramma's just taught me some self-discipline, that's all," he murmurs, feeling exposed and vulnerable somehow, "business before pleasure and all that— you know she won't let me go outside and goof around until I'm done with my homework." His gaze lowers to his hands, which he wasn't even aware he was wringing. "Maybe you should start doing the same," he suggests, an unexpected edge creeping into his voice, "so I don't have to listen to you _whining_ because you always do everything last minute."

When he dares to look up, she appears disarmed; torn between annoyance and guilt. He waits for her to say something, and in the end she heaves a big sigh. "You sound like Mom and Dad." It's not malevolent, so he doesn't comment. She goes on, her voice softening: "Why'd you chop off all your hair right before the start of school, anyway? They're gonna call you Mr. Potato Head or something— not to mention it's January. Must be freezing," she says, reaching out and tugging almost affectionately at his hat; grinning when he squawks an objection, swatting at her hand.

He scowls weakly at her, his face hot with embarrassment; more from the prospect of going to school like this and what an idiot he's been for doing this than her friendly ribbing. "Haha," he grunts, "well, you got your present and everything, so I guess I'll be off…"

"Hey," she objects gently, tugging at his sleeve this time.

His answer is flat, still a touch of wounded pride in there. "What?"

To his surprise, she bites her lip, looking suddenly shy. "Michigan Me and Oregon Me are different," she explains, swinging the shrunken heads casually back and forth by her side for a moment before meeting his eyes quizzically. "Does that make sense?"

"Not really," he says, slowly shaking his head at her.

"Michigan Me doesn't live in the middle of nowhere with no kids around or chase ghosts or play with mud or slugs or wear a school uniform or— I dunno, dress up as Ghostbusters for Halloween," she says, rather meaningfully.

"So…what _does_ Michigan Coraline do, then?" he challenges.

Looking out into the grounds behind him, she cracks her knuckles and purses her lips before she starts explaining herself with a list that almost sounds like she's casually reading it off a blackboard. "Play sports. Go to football games. Go to the movies, go to the mall, the zoo, go rollerblading and biking— and I didn't read trashy horror comics."

"Well, weren't you the little urbanite," he remarks dryly. "And I thought you said you'd already read half my collection."

Coraline squirms.

Wybie shoots her a blank look. "Oh, so another thing Michigan Me does is pretending to be cooler than she really is?"

She makes an irritated, haughty little noise. "Well, just because _you_ don't recognize social suicide when you see it…"

Oh, he does recognize it, just sometimes too late. Thinking he's got an advantage, he continues teasing her, refuses to let her comment get to him: "I'm disappointed in you, Jonesy," he sighs dramatically, "I thought you were stronger than that."

Again with the noise, and then she's off on a lecture: "Oh, get over yourself— like you're some kind of misunderstood rebel? Did it ever occur to you that I _like_ playing sports? That I _like_ going to the mall? There's just not a whole lot to do around here except hang around the weird, dorky neighbor kid."

There's a strange itch in his chest, but he tries to ignore it, sticking out his tongue at her. He'd meant that comment as a joke; she didn't have to go that far, even if she's sort of half-joking as well. "We could go to Salem," he finally says, though not nearly as confidently as he planned.

She cocks her eyebrow. "That's pretty far."

Fishing for something to say, he comes up with: "There are malls there…and football games."

The eyebrow doesn't relent. "Oh, really? And why do _you_ wanna go there?"

"Well…" he begins, holds the idea in his mouth for a while, as if tasting how it sounds before he lets it go: "We could visit Oregon State Hospital."

"_Why_?" This unusual wish seems to have taken her for a loop, and no wonder; what kid would willingly hang out a hospital unless they had relatives or friends there?

He gives a one-shouldered shrug. "I read _One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest_ was filmed there."

"What? When did you watch _that_?" she demands, suddenly envious and accusing, "You're not old enough."

Wybie snorts. "So? We weren't old enough to watch _The Shining_, either, but we still did _that_."

Coraline grins, conceding him that point, but he can still tell she thinks he should've waited for her so they could've watched it together. "Anyway, what's so interesting about a hospital?" she asks, then, waving an impatient hand. "Whaddaya expect's gonna happen, Jack Nicholson jumping out at us and going booga booga?"

"_No_," he says, brow lowered and face full of pouty reproach.

She's relentless. "Yeah? Then what's the _real_ reason you wanna go?"

"To-free-the-tortured-souls-of-people-who-were-forcibly-committed," he blurts out in rapid succession; it almost sounds like a single, tongue twisting word, like something out of a German dictionary.

Coraline gives a strange sort of cough-laugh at this. "_What_?"

"Well, y'know…what if they aren't at peace?" Wybie asks, forcing the shyness down, forcing himself to talk more normally. "People say it's haunted. A lot of bodies went unclaimed after the patients died there, and they were just cremated. I've read that the remains were later installed in a Memorial Circle, but there's bound to be somebody who was forgotten— and considering they dug up the graveyard to cremate those bodies as well, there's gotta be some angry spirits around."

She stares at him for a while before she sighs. "Look, I just got lucky last time, and I had a lot of help, from Cat, from the adder stone, from the Other Father, from y— the Other Wybie. Without 'em, I dunno what would've happened. Who's gonna help us in _Salem_?"

"Aww, c'mon, Jonesy, that doesn't sound like you—"

"I'm always up for adventure, Wybie, and I won't say some of it wasn't exciting, 'cause it was, but…but I took up that challenge because I had to, because it was right there in my _house_. It was a struggle for freedom and survival," she insists, sounding ridiculously serious for a twelve-year-old; he might've laughed at her if he didn't know what she's gone through. "Salem is miles and miles away, and maybe we shouldn't be interfering with that kinda stuff, anyway."

Nevertheless, he tries once more: "What if they're really ghosts, just like Gramma's sister? Trapped?"

She pauses at that, looking so thoughtful and torn that he almost expects her to go grab her cap and bag and whisk him away on a quest.

"But Jonesy, what would the Ghostbusters do?" he nearly whines.

She gives him a pointed look. "Uh, I dunno, trap the ghosts forever in a place that might be environmentally dangerous or unstable mainly 'cause they don't know what else to do with 'em? That's what _you_ said, anyway."

He deflates. "…oh, right."

"Ugh, you're like a puppy, I swear— just like Ray Stantz!" she complains in a way that tells him she's not actually all that irritated. "If it makes you feel any better, you can go ahead and research Salem 'till you finally become an actual hunchback."

This compromise (and its potentially underlying promise) brightens him up at once. "Will do, Dr. Venkman!"

"You're deranged, Why-were-you-born," she says, complete with a withering stare he's seen Mrs. Jones giving countless times to Mr. Jones.

His fresh grin merely grows at that.

She rolls her eyes. "Anyway, thanks for the gift. I'm gonna head inside, I need to finish my homework, and so should you."

"Already finished it," he says, sounding supremely nonchalant.

"Jerk," she replies matter-of-factly, making him laugh.

"See ya!"

Almost through the door, she turns back just in time to catch him before he speeds off on his bike.

"Wybie!"

He flips his visor back up. "What?"

Coraline hesitates for a second or two, suddenly not looking exactly sure of what she wants to say, or how to say it. "Michigan Me…also hadn't visited a creepy dimension full of…full of button-eyed people who wanted to eat her life. Michigan Me hadn't been in a deadly situation. At first I thought it was because I didn't associate them with the Other World like I do with you, but I kinda do. After all, they were in a picture there, talking to me. I thought I didn't want them tangled up in that mess, and it's not like I'm gonna tell them all about it."

"Really?" His head tilting, he studies her face with a frown, trying to focus on her instead of the amazed elation bubbling acutely in his chest. Despite how close they seemed, she hasn't told them. He's still the only one (well, he and Gramma) who really knows.

She shakes her head vigorously, an almost wild look in her eye. "Oh, no way, they're gonna think I'm crazy— they already looked at me like I was nuts last night!"

"Huh? Why?"

Coraline's expression tells him that she thinks she might've overshared. She reluctantly goes on: "I think I might have freaked out a teensy bit when they wanted to know what the deal was with the little door in the living room wall," she sighs, then adds: "…but anyway, it's not necessarily that."

Wybie frowns curiously at her, waiting for her to elaborate, to explain.

She shrugs, glances down at her feet and back at him. "Wybie, so far, the two of us…we've never really hung out with anybody else here, ya know? So I didn't really know how to— and me and Lauren and Josh were pretty close, so it's kinda hard to know how to…include you in that, somehow. And I guess I was kinda hung up on everything being perfect, 'cause I hadn't seen 'em in so long."

He blinks, momentarily astounded at what almost sounds like an apology. "Well, uh…it wasn't just you. I could've of course acted less…less like, uh…well, or more like…yeah."

"Whatever, anyway, right? I mean, it's not like I was gonna— " she says hastily, before interrupting herself with an odd little laugh. "And don't worry, those rubber heads are nothing, you should've seen Lauren, we found a rat skeleton yesterday and she wanted to take the skull with her, said she was gonna freak out her little sister— Josh thought it was totally gross!"

His eyebrows jump. "Really?" It's not about rubber heads or grossness or chopping off all your hair, it's always been like this, he simply has no idea how to talk to other kids, especially if it's more than one at a time— but now he still wishes he'd taken a chance and stuck around.

"Of course, then Cat came and dragged the whole rat skeleton off— figures." She squirms a bit again, appearing to struggle for the appropriate words, before throwing her arms out in a facsimile of a careless gesture. "But anyway, Lauren and Josh'll be back this summer, so…"

Finally relaxing, he grins crookedly at her. "So…I'll bring the popsicles if you bring the shrunken heads?"

Coraline throws him a half-hearted raspberry in response to his half-hearted bravado. "If you insist."

As Wybie starts pedaling away, he catches her relieved laugh before she shuts the door.

**The End.**

* * *

**Author's notes:** I had no idea how this story got so long, it was only supposed to be a tiny one-shot like the others. Ah well.

**Besides, both he and Coraline are aware that there are limited things for kids to do around here:** No offence to anyone from Ashland, Oregon. I think the place looks gorgeous and would really love to visit. I just got the impression from the movie that it's a small town with not much to amuse modern children— or at least there isn't if they were going to hang around the Pink Palace for a while.

It can be up to your own interpretation whether Lauren did indeed flirt (in an eleven-or-twelve-year-old kind of way) with Wybie or not, or if Coraline teased her about it because she was unconsciously jealous (also in a twelve-year-old kind of way) or not.

**Something out of a German dictionary:** I had an example here, but FF Net kept simply deleting the word while I did my editing. What's up with this random deletion? Not to mention random squishing together of words? Has anybody else had this problem? Anyway, if there appears to be missing a word in a sentence or if two separate words have been pushed together in this story (or in my other stories), then it's due to whatever the hell FF Net's deal is with that.


End file.
